A Cold War
by TheColdWar
Summary: A story of war, love, trust and betrayal. The war that tore everything apart. One warning: some torture and gore.
1. A Day With Hans

I shall start this with a quick introduction. Firstly this chapter is written from the perspective of Leviro, spymaster of Arendelle. It was never meant to become part of a fanfic, in fact most of this was never intended to be part of a grander story, that is why parts of it might not quite fit into the whole.

Secondly, it is written by various different people with differenty styles, as you will soon notice.

Thirdly, the characters are loosely based on us and our friends from /r/Frozen, so the names might seem a bit odd.

Now I shall leave you with the actual story, hope you all enjoy it very much!

* * *

The day dawned, cold and grey. I marched through the dungeons, putting the gloves on my hands. Breathing heavily so as to prepare myself for what I was about to do.

The candles flickered as I walked past, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The door I was looking for was at the end of the hallway, barely discernable due to the lack of light at that end of the room.

I opened the heavy oak door and closed it behind me with a resounding thump. The fire in the center of the room quivered, it threw light on the downcast face of a figure chained up in the corner.

I decided to start the day off with a little foot whipping. I grabbed a Cat o' nine tails, obtained at great expense from the Royal Navy of Great Britain archives. Each end split the skin of Hans' soles with every single swing. Hitting the nerve clusters in the arch of his feet, each blow making the pain greater, as the soles do not go numb with pain.

The sole of the foot, not only does it not go numb, but it is also the part of the human body most susceptible to temperature. I immobilized Hans, an easy task after the recent activity. I blasted his feet with hot oil, enjoying as it seeped into the fissures left previously.

I placed the coals on the fire, preparing an iron sheet carefully between the feet, or what was left of them, and the fire. This way I could regulate the heat exposure, to exact the maximum pain from my victim. It is important to maintain an exact pain level, as too much would cause the victim to lose consciousness. In fact, in my efforts I was overzaelous and Hans did indeed lose cognizance.

Maybe I should dial it down slightly. Lucky I had a supply of smelling salts to wake up Hans. Now I would begin on the hands. Denailing would be my next port of call. This method is incredibly effective as, with modern medicine, one can extract the nails with maximum pain, yet no permanent damage to the body. I, however, would be using a rough skewer of wood, dipped in sulfur. This way has the added benefit of burning the sensetive areas cut and lubricating the needle for easier use.

The screams of pain barely dying away and I was on to the next task, forgoing even lunch to exact the maximum revenge on this servant of the devil.

This next task would be the hardest, requiring a steady hand, something I was never know for. In fact, my hands have the habbit of shaking at the minimum effort. This would not be a problem. I didn't want a work of art to hang on my wall, but the maximum application of pain.

I slowly split the skin along the wrists, taking care not to sever any arteries. I then I made a split along the back of his hand, peeling the skin back as I went. The line was not straight, but I did not want a skin hand for any collection. I cut the square off the back of his hand. I then split the epidermis along the edge of every finger, exfoliating the bones on Hans' hand.

The hands now had no more skin left, the next step was to place them in a cold bucket of icy water while I paused and admired my work. By now Hans was delirious, foam coming out of his mouth, babbling about one or another of his brothers.

Time for a quick break. I left the dungeon and returned an hour later.

Hans was still in incredible pain, and yet now he was ready for the next stage in the logical progression of pain. I reached out for the plate of iron i had left in the coals from earlier. It was red hot, glowing in the dimm light. Perfectly shaped for the task at hand. It was modeled on Hans' face, it would be a perfect fit save for two minor details. There were slight indentations on the area for his eyes.

I made a mistake. Firstly I needed to remove a certain part of his anatomy. I grabbed a scalpel. Holding his eyes shut I cut along the line under his eyebrows, removing his eyelids in a torrent of blood. The screams of pain music to my ears, Impulsing me to further feats of pain.

Now it truly was time to use the mask. I forced it onto his face amidst his shrieks of protest, sounding like a demented animal on its death bed. As the mask fit over his face, a faint popping sound was heard, and the howls intensified. I decided it was time to fix that problem.

A quick slit with the scalpel later and the screams were, not gone, but considerably reduced. A limp tonge hung pinned to a wooden beam opposite.

I looked out of the window. So much time had passed that night had fallen. Time for one last round of pain before the day was over.

Grabbing a rope, I tied up Hans' arms, taking care to inflict the most pain on his skinless hands. They were tied behind his back and hoisted up on a beam. I tied a bad of stones to his feet, also procuring to ignore the pain that his feet must feel. I tensed the rope and pulled upwards.

After a short while both arms broke with a loud crack and various muffled moans from our lovely victim.

Next step of our voyage through the depths of suffering. I had managed to obtain a pair of thumbscrews. This would be the first step of the last stop on the pain train. Tying his hands down, I applied said devices to his fingers, tightening until the bones cracked under the pressure.

Then I obtained a glass vial. I inserted this tube up Hans' urethra. All the way up. Before he could react I grabbed a hammer and smashed the vial, several times. I removed the end, leaving as many shards as possible.

The day was nearly over. I quickly extracted the molten iron left over from the face mask and seperated two small, yet brightly burning drops. I place on on each shoulder. The would melt their way down his body, creating a line all the way down through his insides.

The drops were placed in positions so as to avoid any vital organs, but the damage would still be severe.

This last torture was not as painful, but the psychological impact on his future would leave him traumatised for life. With my scalpel in one hand I quickly and crudely cut a line around his hairline, exposing the top of his skull. The hair was removed. My next torture wasnt going to be that severe, however I had to end on a high note.

I found a bucket full of phosphoric acid, ready for such an occasion. I emptied it over his head, making sure to get some in his ruined eyes, burn his exposed skull and, most importantly of all, burn his sideburns off.

I walked to the door, singing quietly to myself. Today had been a very good day.


	2. A Day With Elsa

This chapter was written from the perspective of The Supervisor, Hans' greatest supporter. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

I Stride through the cell door confidently, the torches in the halls outside bathing my prisoner in a stream of light. Thanks to the filthy rag in her mouth and the strip of linen tied around her eyes, she is not aware of my presence immediately. She hangs limply, her hands tightly secured to a chain which feeds through a metal loop in the ceiling, allowing me to pull from the other side and exert complete control over her mobility.

I Tap her on the forehead lightly, causing her to snap to attention immediately.

"Good evening, Elsa, how are we today?"

She screams something through her rag, which I obviously do not understand. I Lift her blindfold and look her in the eyes, smiling condescendingly.

"I'm having a lovely day, too. Now, where shall we begin?"

She screams something else, and I just nod, not really listening. My eyes dart around the room, trying to decide which one of my toys I should implement on the fallen queen first. Then, I remember.

"Ah! I Have something I would love to show you, your majesty!"

I Open up the old leather bound chest on the filthy floor, retrieving three items. I Lay them out on the table in front of her, slowly, theatrically. They are two gnarled sticks, scorched by intense heat, and an equally burned, partially rotten carrot.

She screams, her brow furrowing in horror and rage, trying quite pathetically to spit out her gag.

"Yes, I took care of your little friend a while ago in the parlor. Big fireplace, y'know. You wouldn't believe how loud a snowman can scream."

I Chuckle lightly, brushing the items off of the table, taking care to squash the carrot with my boot heel as I make my way to the furnace on the far side of the room.

Three knives sit there, their blades glowing red within the fire. I Pick the longest, yet thinnest of them, drawing it from the heat and admiring the dull light given off by the metal.

Iron. The bane of any magical being.

Elsa struggles to turn and look at me, her eyes widening in fear when she catches sight of the blade in my hand. She struggles to speak, rattling her chains frantically as I approach with my little instrument.

"What's that Elsa? I'm sorry but I can't hear you! Perhaps if I knew what you wanted..."

I Slice her dress open from behind, exposing the pale skin of her back.

She shakes her head, her blonde braid swishing back and forth, her pleas for mercy unintelligible through her gag.

I Press the tip of the iron knife between her shoulder blades, a great joy welling up in my soul as she screams louder than I would have thought possible, her body shivering with pain.

Grinning, I drag the tip down her body, leaving a burnt, bleeding trail in my wake.

As I stop at the small of her back, I reach around and loosen her gag. It might be fun to hear what she has to say. Plus, I don't want to miss out on all that lovely screaming.

Her first words are nothing surprising; "P-please, why are you doing this...I-I Didn't...please don't...I-I."

"P-p-please don't what?", I Ask, mocking her pained stuttering. "Now, I'd tell you to try and hold still, but frankly, I think I'll enjoy this a lot more if you don't."

Viciously, I press the knife into her skin, relishing the pained screaming that immediately commences. Careful to make the letters as big and ragged as possible, I slowly carve a little message into the queen's body. As the blade comes to a stop, her screams have become ragged sobs, and tears drip onto the cold stone.

I Step back and admire my handiwork. Engraved on the small of Elsa's back, is a short statement; "Hail to King Hans of the Southern Isles". Bleeding and burnt, it is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever written.

She sobs harder

"Now, what next?"

My eyes light up as I catch sight of the sticks I'd earlier taken from the snowman, now laying on the floor.

I Pick one up, smacking it against my palm a few times. It's surprisingly sturdy. I Loosen Elsa's chain from the other end, allowing her to slump to the floor with a thud.

"Maybe Olaf would like to help us out a little bit?"

Standing over her triumphantly, I raise the stick and bring it down hard onto her already ruined back.

Whack

She cries out. I Lift the stick, besides collecting blood from the cuts already there, it creates some of it's own, dripping red onto my shoes.

I Bring it down again, and again, and again. Finally, when I raise it for another strike, a strip of skin hanging from the tip, it breaks. The upper half falls to the ground, and I toss away the part I'm still holding.

"Had enough?"

She doesn't respond, simply groaning in pain.

"I Asked you a question!" I Snap.

"Y-Yes."

"Well, that's too bad."

I Pick up Olaf's other arm, taking a few practice swings, the air whistling around the stick as I do so.

Elsa's blue eyes open wide in terror, as she shakes her head violently, fresh, warm tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No! No more! I Can't take anymore!"

"Sure you can!" I Sing mockingly "I Know you can! Cause for the first time in forever..." I Trail off, unable to think up new taunting lyrics for my impromptu parody. This angers me, and I take it out on the nearest available victim.

I Kick the blonde hard in the ribs, relishing the cream of pain that quickly follows.

"This singing reminds me! I've got someone else you may know! Wait right here."

I Exit the cell for a moment, then return a minute later, dragging a limp redheaded girl who hangs almost motionless, breathing laboriously.

"Anna!" Elsa shrieks. "What did you do to her you monster?"

"Well, nothing much yet, just some starvation, a little sleep deprivation, a spot of psychological torment. I'm not so much concerned with doing things to her, as I am with using her to do something to you."

Anna lifts her head weakly, making eye contact with her sister.

"E-Elsa?"

"Oh Anna! Don't worry, everything will be okay, I promise."

"I Wouldn't be too sure of that, Anna" I Reply, simultaneously taking hold of one of her braids and with the other hand, drawing a long, serrated knife from my belt.

In one fluid motion, I drag it across the redheads throat, her teal eyes going wide as the freckled skin of her neck splits open, pouring a waterfall of blood onto my boots.

"Oh, look at that, I've gone and made a mess."

"ANNA! NO! YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU EVIL FUCKING MONSTER! I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Wanna see something? I've been practicing my ventriloquist act."

I Lift up Anna's lifeless body, sitting her corpse on my knee. One hand gripping her temple, the other her jaw, I move her mouth, as if she were a dummy.

"Hi Elsa!" I Say through the corner of my mouth. "It's me, your sister Anna, wanna build a snowman? I Love you so much!"

A Sound like nothing I've ever heard before tears itself from the queen's throat. It is like sheer pain and loss made audible, and it sends a wave of pure pleasure through my body. I Drop Anna's corpse, my hands stained with red, and stalk towards Elsa.

I Shake my hands into the air, splattering some of Anna's blood onto her sister's face.

This is for his sideburns

"Okay" I Say, a maniacal grin spreading across my face, "You ready to have some more fun?"


	3. Part 1

This chapter follows a few days after the torture, an exchange of hostages. The main character is Saren, who happens to also be the writer of this piece.

* * *

Hikari Oni stood in the middle of the bridge, the only bridge connecting Arendelle to the Southern Isles. He hair and cloak flapped in the wind behind her as the warm wind currents flurried past her stationary figure. The climate was temperate, the air was humid, and the day was calm, but yet, Hikari still wore her armor. Her devotion transcended comfort, it seemed. Despite the heat and despite the circumstances, her face remained stoic, only emotion betrayed by the traces of tears coming from her puffy eyes. It had hit her hard, and now here she was. As close to the border as she would ever go.

She only had one companion. Sitting on the edge of the bridge, staring into the wavy waters of the Isles, Saren sighed.

"Are you sure he's even coming?"

Neither of them looked at each other, but they had a mutual understanding. They both knew each other enough.

"He will. His pride will make sure of that."

Saren tugged at the swordbelt at his side. The sword hadn't seen much use itself, but the belt itself had been worn through. As Hikari's more-or-less personal assistant, he never needed to do much fighting. He was mostly left to clean up the mess.

Hikari Oni wasn't the easiest person to work with, but he was the only one willing to. He'd seen it countless times, there would be one, poor, brave, stupid soul vying for Elsa's affections, and she'd be there, quick and loud, to cut them down. The aftermath was his to document, and he'd done so without complaint. Maybe he liked the danger that came with the job, the fact that he had to work so closely with a borderline psychopath, but here he stood and here he would stay.

Even then though... Seeing Hikari like this unsettled him. The things she'd had to hear... about what was happening to her beloved... it hit everyone hard, but he knew for a fact that it had hit her the hardest. It was all he could do to stop her from declaring open war on the destitute nation.

So it was him who'd set up the hostage exchange. Saren had called up the right people, arranged the time and location, and negotiated the terms.

The bridge at noon a week from the anniversary of Elsa's coronation. Two people maximum per party. The captives would walk across the bridge in tandem. No fuss, no muss. At least it seemed that way.

Both sides of the bridge were clear so no archers could set up anywhere along its sightlines. In case of trouble, Saren had brought along a crossbow. Both Hikari and Elsa had mixed feelings about the weapons, of course, but it was a a necessity.

He hoped he wouldn't miss.

Sighing one last time (a bad habit of his) he hopped off the bridge onto dry ground. He looked at the dishevelled wreck behind the bushes that was "Prince" Hans. He contemplated giving him another kick but decided against it and walked towards Hikari Oni. He gave her a sympathetic glance and bit his lip.

"It's gonna be ok, Hikari. I promise you."

He wasn't sure if she cared.

But then she spoke. "Get ready."

Saren leaned against the bridge, trying to act non-chalant. In reality, his hands were shaking, but the gloves helped conceal it. Hikari merely stood in the same place as ever, her focus entirely on any movement on the far bank.

Then finally. They heard them before they saw them. A clamor of horses and hooves filled the air before finally stopping when a party of two dismounted and reached their destination on foot. With them was unmistakeably the Ice Queen. ThirteenFears failed to suppress a gasp. What had he done to her? He felt himself unconsciously reaching for his weapon, but stopped himself. He didn't turn around to look at Hikari. He shouldn't... or COULDN'T see her cry. Not now.

Of the two figures standing, one of them was, by prior experiences, The Supervisor. Dressed almost just like his beloved Prince, his bright clothing made him a much too easy target, Saren thought. He had a gleaming smile on his snide face, giving incentive to loose an arrow as well. He had Elsa by her hair, it's perfect gleam now brutally ruined by what could only be torture.

Next to him was a his number one fan. The Commander had the same haughty smile on her own face. They were a sight to behold. Emblazoned in Southern Isle insignia, their outfits complemented each other and showed an undeniable devotion to their Prince. Both were also clearly armed, something that had been demanded of by both parties.

Elsa... Saren could barely see past the growing tears in his eyes. What had they done... She was worn, bloody, and broken... and here he swore that he would never see her cry. Her very essence... adulterated by The Supervisor. It took everything inside of him to stop from charging across the bridge. He steadied himself though, knowing what needed to be done.

"You brought Elsa?!" He cried across the river.

The Supervisor yanked on Elsa's braid violently and brought her to his chest level. "Of course. Now where's my prince?!"

Saren pulled the prince to his feet by the collar of his ragged shirt and kicked him towards the bridge. He brought the crossbow out in one hand now.

"Here's your dog." Saren pulled the bucket off Hans' head. "Make the trade."

The Supervisor pushed Elsa to the bridge. "You heard him. Go." He shouted across. "My Prince, it's me! You'll be alright, those bastards never could have hurt you!"

Hikari Oni stepped forward, hand on the hilt of her sword. "Elsa... it's safe." Quiet yet audible to all at the same time, the sound of her voice reassured her Queen. "Cross the bridge, you'll be safe here. You belong back in Arendelle, with us."

Both hostages nervously looked back at their captors. Saren gave Hans a look of scorn. "Go. I won't shoot you... much." Both ran at the same time, as fast as they could after their respective ordeals. More like they hobbled, all the pain weighing them down from what they had endured.

The tension was thickest as they passed one another, not even bothering to look at each other as they went for escape. This was it. Escape from the storm.

Saren raised his bow to his chest.

And there it was. Right on cue. The low thrum of a crossbow bolt being fired.

Crack.

Elsa fell, something coming from behind her. Hans ran without looking back however. Elsa looked up, turning to see what had happened. In the middle of the bridge, right behind her, had arisen a wall of ice... and embedded in the ice... was an arrow.

The Supervisor's eyes widened. The Commander's grip on her crossbow, which she had just fired, loosened. It felt to ground, now a useless weapon.

"H...How...?"

Hikari Oni stepped forward, an aura around her. Her clothes gave off a blue tinge. It was cold now, not just in their hearts, but in the air. The sky grew darker... and the wind blew harder.

Suddenly, icicles rose out of the ground behind The Supervisor and The Commander, forcing them onto the bridge. The Supervisor took the emaciated Hans into his arms. The three of them were both in direct sight line now.

Hikari spoke, for the first time in a while.

"Elsa... my Elsa... did you people really think it would be that easy?"

She stepped onto the bridge. Saren followed in her footsteps, which were now leaving icy imprints on the brick.

"You should know this by now you fools. The only reason why me and Elsa can be together, more than the likes of anyone else who "claims" her, is because of her "curse."

A storm was raging by now, cursing them all with the chills.

"Elsa needs me... as much as I need her... because I can control the storm inside... with her.

Hikari reached Elsa, never breaking her stride. "We braved this storm together.

"I guess I made a mistake. Even Elsa wanted to see what it was like to live without her powers... and I let her, for a brief moment. But it was a mistake... and look what happened."

Saren would never know how much they were crying... both, together, at the same time, on that bridge... but he knew that he would when he heard what had come next.

Elsa rose to her feet with the help of Hikari and they embraced. The ice in the air stood still. Saren would never hear what they would have to say in that most private moment except for that last, desperate gasp by Elsa.

"Anna... Anna's dead, Hikari." There was nothing but sobs.

Saren felt his vision blur... his knees becoming weak, his body in shock despite the dropping temperatures around him. Anna... no. Not Anna. Anything but Anna. He... never got to say... no.

He thought to his friends. Phaulty, Anon, everyone... everyone who knew and loved Anna as much as Hikari Oni loved Elsa. He thought of their reactions, what they would have to go through, and how the news would break them.

He couldn't handle it. He raised the crossbow to his cheek and fired.

The Commander collapsed in a heap once the arrow pierced her head. The Supervisor cried out, but kept his hands on his beloved prince.

He turned to Hikari.

"Sorry. This is something I have to do."

She nodded. "Do whatever you have to do." She had pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, concealing it all. Elsa in her arms, she walked back to their own side of the now Frozen river.

Now it was time for The Supervisor to really feel.

Nocking another arrow, Saren walked over to the gibbering pair.

The Supervisor spoke, hands still on his prince.

"No... wait no! Just leave us alone! You have ELSA! YOU HAVE ELSA!"

Saren kicked Hans out of his hands. The Prince of the Southern Isles rolled onto the ground, on his back, in front of Saren.

"So what you're saying is I should just... let it go? His enemy hesitated, then nodded.

Saren nodded, aimed the crossbow at Han's groin, and fired.


	4. Part 2

"Why's it so goddamn cold?" those were the first words out of Corteno's mouth as they stepped into the clearing. It was a nice break from the thick of the woods they had been trekking through for the better part of 3 hours. As far as woods went, these were not the best to be in.

The Mistraiton Woods was the name given to the mass of forest that covered the Arendelle-Isle border. It was just a large, snaky mass of trees and foliage that had grown so tall that light didn't even penetrate its depth.

And now they had officially crossed the Arendelle border. If they were found, they'd be summarily executed. Killed for my queen... Saren laughed at the thought.

What they were doing wasn't exactly squeaky clean either. Covert as covert got, his crack team's objective was to set up an ambush. If everything went well... it would be for Anna.

Thirteen slung his weapon behind his back, letting his guard drop. He stepped forward as well, boots crunching on the rockier clearing floor. It was odd, he thought. The sun shone here, unlike the darkness of the forest in which they had emerged, but despite that... no plants grew and no birds sang. The day _was_ almost over, given the red hue of the sunlight, but even still... _odd_.

"It _is_ cold" he said absent-mindedly. "But maybe _she's_ watching.

Corteno turned around, spiteful of his partner. "Who, Hikari? That b-" he stopped himself. "It's not a curse to say her name, moron. Besides, that's idiotic. You know where she is."

Thirteen nodded. Yes... Hikariwas back in the castle of Arendelle, comforting their Queen. Given the winter that had ensued the last time an incident of this magnitude had occurred, there was no telling what Elsa would do now that her sister was... dead.

Thirteen sighed at the memory again. It was all second hand to him of course, but each and every time he imagined Anna's death at the hands of the miserable bastard, he felt a swath of emotions. By now, he had learned to keep them in check. Conceal... don't feel... or else you're dead. He'd learnt _that_ lesson a long time ago.

The two of them sat down and waited. Saren took the opportunity to observe Corteno, as he had never gotten the chance to until now. Elusive as a dream made in childhood, Corteno was the chief reconnaissance officer within Arendelle's armed forces. Preferring to work alone, the agent had come into service around the time Hikari had. Despite answering to Saren, Corteno, when he was sighted, was more like to be around Elsa in the palace. As a trusted member of the castle garrison, he was free to walk in and out as he liked, but even he had something _deeper_ with the Queen, Saren felt.

He'd chanced upon them together from time to time, more often than not, talking merrily, joking around, being entirely comfortable in each other's presence, almost as close as Hikari was to her. Corteno didn't seem to open up to anybody, but for Elsa, he was hers to please.

Another person Elsa loves to talk to more than me, sighed Saren.

Right now, however, given the circumstances, Corteno was seething. Rage was a trait he had never seen in him before, but now it looked like he was in it a lot. Teeth perpetually gritted, eyes eternally fiery, Corteno looked poised to kill. His hands kept busy as well, intermittently unsheathing and flashing his weapon of choice, the katana, which hung at his side. He was angry, and all the dark cloaks and magic in the world couldn't conceal that.

"Where the hell are the other two?" Corteno hissed. "They're late. They can't be late, not for this." He cursed more under his breath.

"Calm down." Saren spoke. "Even if they don't make the deadline, we still have a job to do. The two of us." He whispered it quietly.

Corteno hissed louder. "Those assholes. Don't they know what's on the line here?! This is the most important thing I've ever had to do and I'll be damned if I let them screw it up!" He was even more restless now, creating ambient sounds that a deaf person could hear.

Saren raised an eyebrow. "You must really love Elsa..." He regretted saying it.

"Are you kidding me?" Corteno gave him the dirtiest look he had ever received. "I love Elsa more than anything, more than this entire world, more_ than life itself_. If you think for one second this isn't for her... you're a traitor." He spat the last word out, full of hate.

"You know I'm not." Thirteen sighed again softly. Why would he ever do anything _other_ than love her, he thought. However, it was useless to dissuade him.

Corteno continued to curse under his breath. Some spy, Thirteen thought. Subtle he wasn't, but he could understand why. The weight of it all hadn't fully sunken in yet, but it would, Thirteen feared. Anna... was _dead_.

Hopefully it wouldn't hit him in the middle of a fight.

The sky grew darker and soon the red shafts of light slowly disappeared. The wind still blew though, its intensity constant and consistent. Saren got up.

"They're not coming. We're doing this alone. C'mon, it's time."

Corteno cursed aloud one final time. "God DAMN it." He composed himself finally however, the time of action drawing closer. He pulled on his mask. It was a unique mask to say the least. Seemingly mechanical in nature, the overarching frame was made to look like a skull, with vacant holes where the nasal cavity and jaw was to be. For eyes, lenses that wouldn't have been out of place at a jewelcrafter's store had been put into the sockets, giving an uncanny feeling whenever one looked into the mask. If Corteno had been going for a psychological effect, he had succeeded.

Saren walked over to a tree he had been eyeing for a while. It was tall enough to conceal, but easy enough to climb. "I'll set up a spot in that tree" he pointed, "once they get in range, I'll take the first shot."

Corteno stopped him. "Those idiots were supposed to be the bait! How are we supposed to do this without them?!"

Saren frowned. "We'll improvise." He climbed into the tree.

Corteno definitely cursed again, but it didn't matter, not right now. He rushed to hide behind a large enough tree, dexterous enough to not make a sound. Well that would have been useful an hour ago, Thirteen thought. Whatever. I didn't matter.

He pulled up the scarf over his mouth, pulled his hood down over his head, and pulled his crossbow up to his cheek.

It was time for an ambush.

Again, they heard them before they saw them. The courier was to be alone... or that had been the news they had gotten... and event that was wrong.

It was a party of three, but that wasn't all. The group were all on horses. The clopping of their hooves gave it away, but it was more of an advantage to them than anything. They were smart. There was no way to positively identify the courier. It was Thirteen's turn to curse.

He could feel the sweat building up despite the cold. The party began to come into full view. He shared a panicked glance with Corteno. Blood pumping and hands shaking, Thirteen raised one finger.

Corteno nodded and flashed a thumbs up sign. He *knew.*

Clop. Clop. **Clop**.

Saren aimed and fired, striking the horse closest to him in the head. As it went down, chaos ensued. Corteno stepped out from the darkness and slashed. The one blow was all it took to decapitate another horse, felling both it and its rider.

The middle courier, equal distances from both ambushers, reacted. Fear in his eyes, he screamed at his horse to go.

Saren took his chance and leapt from the tree, dagger in hand. The next thing he knew he felt the tip bury into the man's neck. The next thing after that was the cold, hard, ground as they both slammed into the forest floor, Thirteen having dismounted his prey in the most violent manner possible. The last living horse recovered from the shock of the impact and fled.

Saren took a minute to regain his senses, dazed for a moment. He rolled off the corpse he had created and stumbled to his feet.

Corteno had cut down the rider who's horse he had beheaded, but the final rider was still alive and recovering. The lone survivor pulled out a pocket crossbow to fire aiming directly for Corteno, mere feet away.

Both Saren and Corteno reacted at the same time.

Corteno slashed... but was only met air.

Saren had tackled the last rider into the ground, pinning him down with his knee and disarming him.

"WE... NEED... ONE OF THEM ALIVE." He gasped.

Corteno burst out in anger. "FUCK THAT! SOMEBODY HAS TO PAY! SOMEBODY... HAS... TO PAY FOR THIS!" He launched himself at Saren.

Suddenly everything went black.

When Saren awoke a little while later, the moon had replaced what the sun had once done and starlight shone bright in the clearing. The scene around them was a massacre.

Two horses had been killed of course. One with an arrow in its eye, another with its head chopped off clean. The rider that Saren had leapt upon was quite dead as well, as tends to happen when a knife enters a person's neck. Corteno had brutally cut down his first kill, his carcass in pieces, but for the last, lone rider...

Saren's eyes widened when he saw what his friend had done to the last man. Strung up like an animal and left to bleed out in the same tree he had been sitting in, the pale cadaver swung helplessly in the breeze, at the mercy of the cold winds of winter.

Saren said nothing, got up, and walked to Corteno, who was staring at the macabre display he had created, his masked face concealing whatever emotion he had at the time. Just as well.

His partner didn't even turn around, but instead pushed a piece of paper into Saren's hand. He said nothing, but nothing needed to be said. The paper's first sentence said it all.

_**"For this mission, you are to act as decoys..."**_

The wind blew cold in the forest that night.


	5. Part 3

Kanada smiled as he read the propaganda posted on bridge. It was a nice bridge really, and the poster was a poster.

"Oh Hans... don't you ever change." The poster lacked any subtleties whatsoever. In essence, it was a portrait of Hans and his signature manure-eating grin. "THE SOUTHERN ISLES NEEDS YOU!" Of course, it would only be a matter of time before they enacted a bullcrap draft law and swelled its army, but you had to give him credit for trying, Kanada thought. There were hundreds of identical posters all posted all over the bridge in some horrific collage of Hans faces.

Still smiling, Kanada looked to the bridge which he stood on. Sturdy, he thought. Made out of wood, fenced on both sides and covered on top by a roof, the sheltered bridge was shady to say the least and provided some cover from rains of arrows. Indeed, a nice spot to have an ambush. It was even a nice day out. Bright and sunny. He didn't envy his compatriots one bit.

According to the dead drop, Saren and Corteno were setting up a seperate ambush point in the Mistraiton Woods, several miles from their location. If he was going die in a fight, he thought, at least it would be in the bright sun of the Southern Isles and not a shallow grave in a possibly haunted wood.

Kanada laughed aloud at his own thought. Dressed in traveller's garb, drab and plain, the only thing that would identify him as a Arendelle agent would be the shiny ice pendant given to all special forces members. He felt it through the cloth of his tunic. The cloak that covered him concealed his weapon of choice, a longbow and his quiver of arrows. Every so often he would jovially strum the bowstring, a habit he had developed after picking choosing his speciality.

He whistled his favorite tune to pass the time, then hummed it even louder.

_"Let it go... Let it go... can't hold you back anymore..."_

Yes, undercover clandestine special operations missions were the best!

"SHHH!"

A sound came from underneath the bridge.

Kanada stopped and shook his head.

"Oh Rech... you should just let it go man." Kanada kicked a leaf off the bridge and watched it fall slowly on the water's surface. "What good are civvies if you don't act like a civilian while you're wearing them?"

What seemed to be a sigh emerged from underneath the bridge.

"C'mon man, get up here!"

Fingers suddenly emerged from below on the side of the bridge and gripped the fence posts. A grunt came, followed by heavy panting, and then a person finally pulled themselves up from the side.

"You look like crap."

The figure climbed over the railing and landed on the bridge with a resounding thump. Wearing a hood in addition to his already dark clothing, it seemed that Rech was going for shady back alley alchemist look, a professional alchemist like Kanada himself could appreciate. Long, concealing cloak, hood pulled up tight, pouches upon pouches strapped to his torso, and last but not least the creepy mask that obscured all of his face, yes, Kanada's partner Rech would have fit in in the shadiest parts of Arendelle.

Kanada couldn't help but be amused at that mask though. Completely devoid of human anatomical characteristics other than the eye holes, it was eerie, to say the least. He _had_ been a little freaked out the first time he had seen it, but now, Rech was like his best friend. Almost.

"C'mon Rech, smile a little huh?"

Rech was not amused... or rather, Kanada couldn't tell if he was or not. Rech rarely spoke. Kanada wondered if he _could_. It had only recently occurred to Kanada that he had _never_ seen his face as well. Rumor had it, no one ever had.

But rumors were for those who had time to gossip. Like it or not, Arendelle's most efficient partnership was had an objective to complete. The ambush would go underway.

Rech merely stared at the calm waters of the river with his arms crossed. At his side was a greatsword, the only part about him that seemed to shine in contrast with his black uniform. Perks of being a blacksmith, Kanada guessed. That had been the extent of what he had gathered on Rech's past anyway. He felt guilty, but shook it off.

"Copper for your thoughts, Rech?"

Rech said nothing. He didn't even move.

"Don't be like that. It's your birthday soon isn't it? How would you like a nice painting?"

Rech simply stared into the river.

Kanada had to wonder though. Why did Saren and Corteno suddenly decide to split up? Some tactician Saren was, Kanada thought. Wasn't there only supposed to be _one_ courier delivering the message? Something seemed off when they received the dead drop, but he wasn't one to question his superiors, even as one as indecisive as Saren.

Kanada frowned, but quickly changed his expression into a grin. He didn't know why... and he would probably never know why, but he enjoyed working with the mute bastard regardless of the circumstances. Kanada was funny enough for the both of them, he thought.

He could have stood there reminiscing for hours, the both of them, leaning on the wooden bridge in enemy territory, watching the birds fly by and the sun shine into their faces. It was this part of the job that he liked.

Rech coughed and Kanada turned around, alert. He gave Kanada a nod.

_They were coming._

"Ready for this Rech?" Kanada felt at the arrow behind his cloak.

Rech nodded, the only sign Kanada needed.

"Then let's do it." They headed to their respective ambush locations.

Trees lined their side of the bridge, providing adequate cover for the bowman. Kanada equipped his bow and nocked an arrow in one swift motion. Easy. He had done it a thousand times. Easy as chocolate cake. It would be a lie to say he wasn't nervous. So much was at stake here, but Kanada was determined. For Anna.

A bead of sweat trickled down his nose as he aimed across the bridge. Any second now... he looked a split second to Rech. He was primed, under the bridge, ready to leap and strike, sword unsheathed.

Kanada smiled to himself again, unable to help himself. He thought to himself as he strained against his bowstring.

"Just like a troll under the bridge..."

**SNAP**

Kanada snapped his head around in time to see a dark figure charge at him, cover blown by the twig beneath his feet. Kanada had trained in close quarters combat of course, but with very little prior experience, his reflexes weren't as sharp as they could have been. He tossed the bow and arrow away and dodged as fast as he could.

**THUMP**

The attacker winged him and threw Kanada off-balance and onto the ground, but had slammed his entire body into the tree which Kanada had been hiding behind.

On the ground, Kanada could see his friend Rech fighting for his life. Two men had him surrounded on the bridge, all were armed and swinging. The ambushers had become the ambushed, it seemed.

Kanada's initial attacker stumbled and fell to the ground on one knee. This was his chance and Kanada took it. Grabbing into the bushes, he located his previously discarded arrow and counter-attacked. In a one violent motion, he slammed his knee into the attacker's face upwards, exposing his torso. Kanada took the arrow and brought it down into his chest.

Stunned and now with an arrow his body, Kanada's mysterious attacker slumped backwards, and leaned on the tree, clutching at the mortal wound.

Looking up, Kanada rushed over to the bridge, drawing his emergency dagger. But nothing needed to be done.

One of Rech's attacker was already incapacitated and disarmed... literally. Both arms had been completely severed from his torso, and he wandered the bridge, attempting to pick up the pieces of his body. It was almost comical in a dark way... Kanada could only feel pity however as he succeeded only in kicking one of his limbs into the water, losing it forever.

The other wasn't faring much better. Rech was doing some delicate work with his large greatsword. With the grace of a gymnast, Rech had managed to severely wound him enough to keep his limbs attached but induced rapid bleeding. By this point, the attacker was staggering around, trying useless swings at Rech, who dodged them easily. Like a chicken with the face of a monkey, it was pathetic. Blood ran everywhere, through the ground and into the waters below.

Noticing Kanada's survival, Rech gave him another nod. The last man standing finally dropped his sword, the clattering of metal on wood sounding the final bell in the battle.

In a swift motion, Rech decapitated his dying opponent. The head flew cleanly off his shoulders and landed in the waters with a resounding splash. It was over.

"Wow... sorry I'm late Rech!"

Rech only shrugged. The harmless, armless man was now on his leaning on the bridge railing, slowly bleeding out. Rech strolled up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The enemy looked at Rech pleadingly, but said nothing. Rech dug around through his pockets, retrieved something from them, and finally pushed him off the bridge. The screams were muffled by the now fast-flowing river.

"Whoa... I hope he can swim. Hehe... heh... ah... that's not funny."

Rech hadn't a scratch on him. Kanada on the other hand had to brush the traces of grass and leaves off his clothes. He was impressed.

Rech handed Kanada the letter he had gotten from the thug. Kanada looked it over.

"Oh... shit."

They both headed over to Kanada's initial attacker. He wasn't in good shape, but he was alive, unlike the one without a head. He looked up as they approached, his mouth bloodstained.

Kanada did the talking. "How did you know we were here?" He tried to sound as intimidating as possible. "WHERE... ARE... OUR FRIENDS?!"

The thug, now clearly exposed as a Isles soldier, only laughed.

"Dead. Fuck you."

With that, Kanada brought his boot up and slowly pushed the arrow inside further into the dying man's body, his emotions now a storm.

"Sorry." Said Kanada.


End file.
